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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26137465">germ-free adolescents</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupidsintern/pseuds/cupidsintern'>cupidsintern</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>also on tumblr! [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Caretaking, Fluff, M/M, Sickfic, billy cares abt him, idk this is just like really soft and tender, so if ur into that Boy Do I Have The Fic For You, steves sick, thats pretty much it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:15:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,269</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26137465</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupidsintern/pseuds/cupidsintern</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ok so Steve was sick. That made sense. Steve was sick and therefore not at school. Open and shut now Billy could stop thinking about it and just wait for him to be better. And he got through the rest of the school day fine. Steve would probably be better tomorrow. But if he wasn't better tomorrow, which was Friday, then Billy might not see him until the following Monday. And, hang on, wasn't Monday a holiday? So worst case scenario Billy wouldn’t get to see Steve for, counting today, five whole days. Which was basically a week. And it made sense to not want to not see someone who was at least a friend for an entire week.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>also on tumblr! [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725826</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>143</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>germ-free adolescents</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>Billy really thought about playing it cool that Steve wasn't at school. Try not fixating on it, try not thinking why Steve wouldn't have told him he wasn't gonna be at school, like if he had a dentist appointment or something. Or he could just like, wait. See if Steve showed up later like maybe his car broke down. Or just give him a call after school like “hey where were you.” You can casually call the people you hook up with, and are kind of friends with. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Kind of?” Steve had seemed offended when Billy said that the first time.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We are. Definitely- at <em>least </em>friends.” Steve insisted. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“At least.” Billy repeated, raising an eyebrow. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah.” Steve folded his arms, like he’d made a formal decree. “We are.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And if they were at least friends, Billy could care that Steve had missed school. But he shouldn't care <em>this much</em>. Shouldn’t be this impatient. Shouldn't have turned to literal Carol Perkins who sat next to him in fourth period and go:</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, where’s Harrington?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She side eyed him, tutted her tongue once. “How should I know?” “You know everything, don't you?” He smiled at her a little.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She rolled her eyes. “Amy Lee said she heard from his lab partner Scott Harris that he’s sick.” Then, “Why do you wanna know, anyway?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh, just worried about the guy,” Billy pulled a face of mock-concern. It made Carol smile, laugh softly, just once. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Ok so he was sick. That made sense. Steve was sick and therefore not at school. Open and shut now Billy could stop thinking about it and just wait for him to be better. And he got through the rest of the school day fine. Steve would probably be better tomorrow. But if he wasn't better tomorrow, which was Friday, then Billy might not see him until the following Monday. And, hang on, wasn't Monday a holiday? So worst case scenario Billy wouldn’t get to see Steve for, counting today, five whole days. Which was basically a week. And it made sense to not want to not see someone who was at least a friend for an entire week. So maybe he could ask Max about Steve or maybe he could just call Steve or maybe he could just kind of go to his house right now just to check and make sure he wasn't dead or anything I mean when is the last time anyone heard from him anyway. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He drove to Steve's house on autopilot anyway. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Nice ‘playing it cool.’</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And if he was here he may as well stop by. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Usually, by the time Billy drove up Steve's driveway and walked up to his door, Steve would already be pulling the door open. It had been a while since Billy had to actually knock. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>No one answered. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He knocked again. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nothing. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He looked over his shoulder at Steve’s somehow-always-clean Beemer and then back to the door. Wasn't like he'd never just walked into Steve's house before. He knew where the spare key was.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>All the lights were off in the house, which was pretty normal but there was no sign that Steve had so much as been downstairs that day. Not that Billy was worried, just that he took the steps up to Steve’s room a little quicker. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He only knocks once before opening the door. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Steve was sprawled in bed, dead asleep. His hair looked like hell, a bright flush painted up his cheeks. The air felt like the stuffiness of a cold. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>One of his arms hung off the bed slightly. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He shrugged off his jacket, threw it in the corner of the room he usually threw shit in, stepped closer. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He touched the hand that hung off the bed first, held it on the back of his own. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Steve,” He said softer than he might say anything else. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Steve stirred, eyebrows pinching together like they did when he woke up sometimes. He moved his hand, grabbed Billy’s wrist- weak grip-, opened his eyes- and smiled. “You’re here.” Steve’s voice was shot to all hell. And suddenly Billy was glad he hadn't played it cool. All his hang ups felt stupid soon as he saw Steve.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re sick.” Billy said back, sat on the edge of the bed as Steve pushed himself up on his elbows. He looked exhausted, too warm to be in any kind of good health. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah,” Steve admitted, laughing a little. Sounded like he’d swallowed glass. “You were in my dream.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah?” Billy grinned a little. “Anything fun?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No,” Steve laughed once, shook his head. “You were just there.” He sat up all the way. “Why’re you here, anyway? I could have the plague for all you know.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Had to make sure you weren't dead.” Billy let Steve lace their fingers together. “I don’t get sick easily anyway. Just don’t spit in my mouth.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Aw,” Steve laughed, playing up disappointment. “Well I'm not dead. Feel dead, though.” He brought Billy's hand to his forehead, made a sound like a soft moan as he leaned into the cool touch. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’ve definitely got a fever.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s fine.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No it’s not, dumbass.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Steve pressed against Billy's hand more. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Eat anything today?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t remember.” Steve mumbled. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You can’t take care of yourself for shit, huh?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Like you’d do better.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Billy said he could do better, asked Steve what he wanted to eat. Steve wanted toast. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You can’t just have toast.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I think I know what my body wants, thanks very much.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>"Like I don’t.” That got another laugh out of Steve, but then some coughing. So Billy made Steve toast, but also dug up some random can of probably not expired soup to make him at least try to eat. Steve refused to leave his bed without dragging his comforter behind him, followed Billy into the kitchen first to set his chin on Billys shoulder, where he stood in front of the counter. Billy jabbed his elbow back into Steve’s ribs, but not hard- “Go sit down.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Billy found Steve curled up on the couch, set his soup and toast down on the coffee table before sitting down himself, kicking off his boots.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You brought it to me.” Steve sounded all too happy about that. “What, do you like me or something?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t get all gay on me, Harrington.” Billy pushed a hand through Steve's hair, reveling a little in the way it always made Steve’s eyes close, a smile play on his lips. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Steve mumbled, reaching up to touch Billy’s hand even as he pulled it back. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Steve leaned over to Billy’s end of the couch, nudged his way to leaning against Billy’s chest, asked if they could watch <em>Miami Vice</em>. Billy said why would he put on <em>Miami Vice </em>if Steve was just gonna pass out on him anyway, to which Steve responded he wouldn’t pass out. Leaned up and opened his eyes to prove it. They ended up just looking at each other, Steve leant cozy between Billy’s legs, hand on his chest. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You didn’t have to come over.” Steve said eventually. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t have to do anything but pay taxes.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know for a fact you've never paid taxes in your life.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Then I guess I don't have to do anything.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Steve laughed. Sounded more awake, but still sick. His eyes got all soft. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Billy leaned in a little but Steve leaned back. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Wait,” He pushed Billy back a little. “If you kiss me you’ll get sick.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Promise to make me soup?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>-</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Steve fell asleep almost as soon as Billy turned the TV on.</p>
</div>
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